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Alone Once Again

Chapter 4: Bored

Summary:

Cicero is bored and decides to scheme on how he is going to deal with his little runaway.

Notes:

WARNING: torture bloodshed and death by trampling. Youve been warned.
We also hear again from the Night Mother and the Dread Father
(Sorry again for the short chapter. Work has been brutal.)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

       As the mare, now called Wraith by Cicero for some strange reason, trotted quietly up the road away from Riverwood, Cicero was writing in a notebook, lightly tapping his chin with his quill. If he was going to wait for his precious lizard once more, he would have to think of ways to deal with his little runaway.

An unhinged grin crept along his face. “Ooh! Perhaps a torture session! With sharp, pointy stabby stabbies!” He chuckled then his smile deflated as quickly as it appeared. “No. Pretty Lizard would hardly make a sound.” He crossed the idea off his list. He rolled on to his back, the quill clenched between his teeth and he held the book over his head. What could he do? He wondered until he dropped the book on his face groaning and he pulled the book from his nose. This was harder than he thought and it was making him angry. He spotted what looked to be a fisherman's camp and making a slight whistle, had the mare veer off the road and rest beside the camp. 

A tent had been erected no more than an hour before he arrived and the more Cicero studied the camp, the more he realized that an Argonian occupied the camp. “Lizard probably hunting his dinner,” Cicero ventured a guess as he lifted the scales near the riverbank. “These aren’t Pretty lizard’s scales. Nope. No, they are not.” Cicero grumbled, “Usaeleí’s scales are much more luminous. These are a dull green and brown. Yuck!” He stuck out his tongue pretending to gag before tossing the wretched thing into the water. He noticed a few bubbles up river followed by a reptilian head with feathers on top. He quickly unhitched the mare and brought her to the river to drink under the illusion that he was tending the tired creature. 

The dark green creature swam to the shore with his catch of salmon and a few trout. He didn’t even notice the jester. He tossed the fish onto a mat and sat down, rummaging through his knapsack. Cicero then placed his forefinger to his lips as if telling the horse to remain silent. Wraith gave him an annoyed look and continued to drink. She neither cared nor minded the crazy fool’s antics so long as she was well cared for, she was content. A strangled growl caused the horse to turn her head to the sound and she saw the crazy fool had ambushed the oblivious Argonian before dragging him effortlessly into the tent. She snorted unimpressed.

“My. My. My. Looky, looky what dear sweet Cicero found sweet Mother!” Cicerco cackled after subduing his victim with his poisoned dagger. “A dumb and unsuspecting little lizard out for a swim.” The brownish-green Argonian hissed fearfully as he tried to thrash about. Cicero grinned as though someone casted a Candlelight over his head. Cicero’s honeyed eyes started to shimmer with delight as he clapped his hands merrily. That’s it! Cicero can play with this little skink while he thinks of a plan for his precious Pretty Lizard! He giggled excitedly as he rushed back to the wagon and grabbed another ebony dagger from his satchel then returned find his prey trying to crawl back to the river. Oh, that simply wouldn’t do, would it? He gripped his dagger then proceeded to stab the lizard’s tail, piercing through the thick hide and pinning him to the rock bed.

Cicero jumped back with ease to avoid the Argonian’s claws. Did you already forget? Argonians are highly resistant to poisons and diseases. The voice in his head sighed exasperatedly. “Oooh that’s right! Cicero almost forgot!” The Fool laughed as he easily blocked the Argonian’s claws, then thrust his dagger through the lizard’s thigh while clenching a couple other daggers between his teeth, trying to avoid the lizard’s needle like teeth. Cicero grinned once more as he sidestepped out the Argonian’s line of sight then dragged his other dagger through the lizard’s shoulders, causing him to arch back reflexively and expose his bare throat. Oh, Cicero could easily, so very easily just slit the jugular but that would end his fun too swiftly. Instead, he danced around so he facing the Argonian then with a leap, stabbed the dagger once more through the shoulder and pulled the blade down, slicing, cutting through the tough hide. 

Blood now practically stained the ground and the lizard was too exhausted to keep fighting. Cuts, gashes, even pieces of his flesh had been ripped off by the crazy fool who didn’t even have a single scratch, let alone a speck of blood on his motley. “Ahhh, is the little skink done playing with Cicero?” Cicero pouted disappointedly. He was still proud that he had hardly broken a sweat but this wasn’t even a challenge. Suddenly, a thought sprung into his mind. But before he could write down this wonderful idea... He turned his attention to his prey, the shadow of death lingering behind him. Swiftly, Cicero whisked around the lizard and dragged his blade across the Argonian’s throat, the blood flowing instead of spraying from the severed vein. While he wiped his blade clean, he glanced at Wraith and whistled for her to come.

Rolling her eyes, Wraith knew what he wanted and reared on her hind legs, her front hooves thrashing about before bringing them down upon the Argonian’s head with a satisfying crunch to the Imperial’s ears. He then produced an apple for the red mare who munched it contently. “Not as fun as it would have been with Pretty Lizard but still satisfying.” He patted Wraith’s neck before hitching her back to the wagon. He drew her back to the road and continued to scribble in his journal. “A softer approach for pretty lizard.” He said aloud then grimaced, “I may be out of practice on that...”

He picked up the reins and gave them a flick urging Wraith into a trot. He removed his cap and scratched his head. 

A challenge indeed. The Night Mother chuckled softly. How is Usaeleí, my Husband?

Et multo melius est cottidie, cara uxor. Et adhuc magis incerta ... suis virtute. The Dread Father hummed with concern then added, Sed box est expectant. Credunt. Temporis complexus susceperit.

Notes:

Latin translations:

Et multo melius est cottidie, cara uxor. Et adhuc magis incerta ... suis virtute.- He is faring much better, dear wife. He is still rather... uncertain with his power.

Sed box est expectant. Credunt. Temporis complexus susceperit.- But that is to be expected. Have faith. In time, he will accept it with open arms.